


Green-Eyed Witch

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Girls Kissing, Jealous Rowena, Jealousy, Laughter, Rowena is jealous, and reader is clueless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 11:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Rowena is jealous of a hunter flirting with reader.





	Green-Eyed Witch

Rowena MacLeod wasn't a jealous person.

Envious, yes; throughout centuries of learning from better, more powerful witches, it was hard not to wish for power alike that of theirs. The power she'd eventually gained, hell, even surpassed. If they were to see her now, they were the ones who'd be envious of her.

Jealousy, though, was a rare emotion for her. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like, having not experienced it in centuries. Her mind flashed back to Fergus' father. The strong, handsome man who'd sworn to protect her, to love her for the rest of eternity. The man who'd promised her heaven, and had left her in hell of blood and near-death, with a screaming infant in her arms. He and his wife — the woman he'd promised to leave for her. Rowena scoffed at her stupidity. Rule number one of being with a cheater: they never leave their spouse, no matter what they say — had had it all; the money, the glory, the respect . Rowena, on the other hand, had had nothing.

She'd stopped feeling then, pushed her emotions down and built a wall around them to keep them hidden. Emotions were a weakness. _Love_ was a weakness. Jealousy was an unnecessary byproduct of it, and it, too, had made her weak, made her vulnerable to the cruel, merciless world that wanted nothing but to take advantage of the scared, naive peasant girl she used to be.

Yet, watching you talking to a hunter — or rather him talking to you — stirred something up inside of her, an old, deeply buried emotion she hadn't felt in centuries. He was a newcomer, one of the refugees from the alternate world she'd kept the rift open for yesterday, almost to the point of passing out. She hadn't even noticed him the first time around, having been awake for two days and craving rest more than food and water. Today, she'd all but woken up to him chatting with you.

Rowena didn't know why it was bothering her. You'd talked to plenty of men and women in her presence, and she'd never felt anything akin to this. The man was tall and scrawny, with messy hair and a face that had surely once been pretty, but the horrors of war had made it rough, worn out. A scar stretched out from his temple to his upper lip, smooth and pinkish in color. Recent. He wasn't handsome, or even all that attractive, now that she thought about it. But…

There was something about the way he was looking at you that Rowena didn't like. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. His smile was wide, showing off dimples that might have been cute once upon a time, but now looked out of place on his hardened face. His eyes gleamed in delight as you laughed at something he'd said, and his lips curled into a bigger smile to match the one in his gaze. His teeth were yellow, Rowena noticed. Unkempt, like the rest of him. He must have brushed them this morning for the first time in days, maybe even weeks.

He leaned closer to whisper something in your ear. You frowned, then gave a soft laugh, bringing a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound. Rowena stiffened. Her teeth clenched. Her fingers balled into hard, heavy fists, turning the knuckles as white as bone. She narrowed her eyes at the man, her gaze sharp, dangerous. If looks could kill, he would have fallen to his death. He had no business standing that close to you. He had no business whispering to you and making you laugh. That was _her_ job.

He was a nobody, a wee — well, figuratively — man who wouldn't know hygiene if it hit him in the face. A stranger. A _hunter._ Rowena's face twisted with disgust at the thought, an expression you'd always found adorable. You loved her scrunched up face as much as her pouty one. She couldn't understand the fascination with her expressions, but she found it endearing. Not many people giggled and showered her with compliments simply for making a facial expression. You loved her as she was, with all her flaws and strengths. You loved her laugh, and her freckles, and the way her hair framed her face in the morning, all big and messy. You loved her hands, loved the veins protruding over their tops like fine ink tattoos. You loved her toes, having proclaimed them cute countless times, and loved when she propped herself up on them to kiss you. You loved her, all of her.

That hunter would never have that. He would never know what it was like to be loved by you.

Though, he seemed very intent on getting a taste.

He said something else, and once again you laughed, a tad awkwardly. A growl rose up in the back of Rowena's throat, and she pressed her lips shut, trapping it. That was _her_ laugh. She was the one supposed to elicit it, not some otherworldly hunter.

Did he even like witches? Was this some sort of a ploy to get you alone and kill you? Rowena wouldn't put it past him. Hunters weren't to be trusted. The two of you helping him and the others wasn't enough to erase decades of hatred for everything and anything non-human. Rowena wondered how many witches he'd killed. What if he was a hunter that specialized in killing witches? What if he were cruel and ruthless, like the locals who'd chased her out of her home, who'd made her abandon her son as she ran for her life?

She didn't trust him. And she especially didn't trust him to be that close to you.

He raised his hand and reached out for you. His fingers brushed down your forearm, a soft, gentle slide of skin against skin. You looked down and frowned, confused by the sudden contact. The man quickly pulled his hand back and muttered something which made your lips curl into a smile.

Rowena's blood ran hot, boiling up inside of her like lava in her veins. Who did he think he was, touching you like that? As if it wasn't enough that he was standing next to you, well in your personal space, and making you laugh. He had to _touch_ you, as well?

Rowena was the only one allowed to touch you like that.

The man uttered something again, seemingly a question. You gave it a thought before responding, the smile never leaving your face. You were tense, nervous; you tried to hide it, tried to mask it with a smile, but Rowena could always tell. She knew your body enough by now to understand its language even from afar. You weren't comfortable talking to the hunter. You weren't afraid, having sensed no danger from him, but you weren't fond of being that close to him. He was a stranger, an unknown, and, to top is all off, a hunter. A perfect combination of things you preferred to stay away from, having been burned — both literally and metaphorically — countless times before. You were too polite to tell him to go away.

Lucky for you and extremely unfortunately for him, Rowena wasn't cursed with the same strain of politeness.

She got to her feet with a huff and strode over to you, back straightened, head up high. Lips tight in a line, eyes sharp, expression firm, she looked every bit a businesswoman, confident, serious, a tinge of threat added for good measure.

"Hey," you greeted, smile widening at the sight of her. Your breaths turned lighter, easier. You were relieved to see her, Rowena realized. Relieved not to be this close to this stranger on your own anymore. Your body relaxed, tension unwinding like a ball of yarn being unwrapped.

Rowena returned the smile. She lowered her head on your shoulder and brought a hand to your shoulder blade, gently wrapping her fingers around it, and put her other one around your waist. She pressed herself against you like a cat demanding attention. It wasn't like her to be this clingy around other people; toughness and independence were reputations she'd worked centuries to acquire. This, though, was worth throwing her pride to the wind. You were hers, only hers. Hers to talk to, hers to touch, hers to make laugh.

The hunter frowned, confusion lining his face. Rowena couldn't look at you, but she was willing to bet your expression matched his.

"You're Rowena, right?" he asked, despite already knowing the answer. Small talk. Courtesy.

Rowena wanted to vomit. "Aye, that's me," she said. She gave him the fakest of fake smiles, deliberately obvious. Her tone matched it.

"I'm Eli." He extended his hand. She didn't shake it. He pulled it back and swallowed, nervous. _Good,_ Rowena thought. He had reason to be nervous. _Good lad._ "Sam and Dean said you kept the rift open for us. Thank you." It was genuine.

"Och, it was just business," Rowena said with feigned modesty. The compliment appealed to her, even if its owner didn't. She wasn't one to turn down praise. She looked into his eyes. "Do you like witches, Eli?" She said his name in a thick accent.

Confusion spilled over his face like paint. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. He wasn't used to surprises, the poor lad. Rowena wondered how he'd managed to survive so long in a world as wild and unpredictable as his. "Um…"

"It's okay if you don't. I imagine most people here hold a similar opinion," she said, nonchalance as fake as her smile. Hell, even Sam and Dean, the closest thing she had to friends, weren't too fond of her kind. People from a supernatural-war-torn world were bound to hold some prejudices.

It was alright. Rowena wasn't fond of humans, either.

"I-I think you guys are cool," Eli said, struggling to find the right words.

"Do you, now?" She narrowed her eyes at him in mock suspicion, and made it look real. "You know, Eli, there's more to us as a species. We don't exist just to be 'cool.'"

He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat. "I didn't mean any disrespect…"

"Och, I know, dear boy, I know." She emphasized it with an exaggerated nod. "Still, it's a point to keep in mind, aye?"

"Of course!"

Of course. Not so flirty now, was he?

"We're all very grateful for what you did for us," he added.

They had bloody well better be! Rowena had stayed up for over two days. A few times she'd almost passed out, drained and tired. Keeping the rift open had taken a lot out of her; a lot more than she'd expected it would. Was it worth it? Yes. She would argue that it was. She'd made good on her word. She'd helped people. She'd made progress on her goal of redemption. But damn, would she have regretted it all had one — just one — of the people she'd exhausted herself for so much as looked at her the wrong way. Or tried to steal her girlfriend.

Eli was walking on a thin line.

"What were you two talking about?" Rowena asked. It was time she got to the point.

Eli's cheeks flushed as if he'd been caught doing something illegal. Which he kind of was, depending on your definition of illegal. "Stuff," he said in a small voice.

Rowena frowned, suspicion growing. "What kind of stuff?"

He shrugged. "Just stuff."

"Like?"

"The weather."

"The weather?" Seriously? That was his pickup line? _Amateur!_ Rowena barely held back a look of disgust. This man, this _hunter,_ was flirting — or rather attempting to flirt — with you right in front of her, and he had the audacity to do it poorly.

He had the decency to look embarrassed. "Why-why do you wanna know?" She shot him a look, and, startled, he quickly added, "No offense."

She intimidated him. Good. Very good. "It seemed like an interesting conversation," she said snidely, not even trying to hide the hostility. "I thought I might join in. I'm always interested in what my girlfriend has to say."

Eli paled as soon as the words left her mouth, face as white as a sheet. "Girlfriend?"

"You didn't know?" Rowena asked with fake compassion, too expressive, exaggerated, like an actress in an overly dramatic soap opera. "We've been together for two years now."

His eyes widened. A bead of sweat popped up on his forehead and slid down his face. Something in Rowena burst in joy at his expression, so frightened, so lost, a petty, sadistic streak she thought she'd lost. She was glad she hadn't. Just because she wasn't black anymore didn't mean she had to be white. Gray was a rather pretty color. Not her favorite, but it suited her quite well.

"That's great," Eli said, after taking a breath to compose his thoughts.

"We make a great pair, don't you think?" she asked, then pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder and huddled closer into you. Eli nodded. "Y/N has always been kind to me. Because of that, I've grown a bit protective of her. If someone were to threaten our relationship, I would do anything to defend it. _Anything."_ The last word came out in a purr; a threat, a warning. "You can understand that, right?"

"Yes," Eli said instantly, emphasizing it with rapid nods.

Good boy.

Rowena was about to say so, eagerly so, when you spoke for the first time since she'd crashed the, ahem, conversation, cutting her off before she even got a chance to open her mouth. "Rowena, can we talk for a minute?"

"Why, of course, my dear!" She lifted her head off your shoulder and shot you a delighted smile, with a dash of innocence sprinkled into it. Not obvious at all. Nope. "Anything for you."

"Bedroom," you said, giving her the same sickeningly sweet smile of lies.

Rowena turned to Eli. "I'm terribly sorry to have to cut this short. It was a pleasure to meet you, Eli."

"Likewise," he said, and didn't mean it. "See you around, I guess, Y/N, Rowena." He nodded at each of you.

"It's Miss MacLeod for you."

"Miss MacLeod," he quickly corrected himself.

You grabbed Rowena's wrist and pulled her after you before she could laugh in his face. Not that she would have; she would have simply sneered. But she was tempted to. She barely held back a fit of laughter as you shoved into the room and closed the door after her. Unlike her, you didn't seem to be in a laughing mood.

"What the hell are you doing?" you demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She didn't really believe it would work. It never did. You always knew when she was pretending. She could fool anyone — hell, she'd even fooled the Devil himself more than once — but she could never fool you.

Once upon a time, Rowena would have been terrified that someone knew her that well. Now, she was glad. You listened when she talked. You paid attention to her behavior, to the very details of language her tiny body displayed. You _cared._ No one had ever cared before; not to this extent.

"Rowena," you said, tone a tad lower, a warning.

"What?" she said defensively.

"You know that's not gonna work on me."

She did know. It was still worth a try. She pouted like a child who'd just been told off by their parent after being caught doing something naughty.

You rolled your eyes. No melting at the cuteness? Rowena was disappointed. Usually, pouting did you in, made you give up the argument the moment her lips would give the slightest sign of puckering up. Had she overused it? Had you developed immunity to her charms of adorableness? Heart sinking, she hoped not. She enjoyed you gushing over her like an overexcited fangirl.

"What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing," Rowena said. What's gotten into an otherworlder, a hunter at that, to flirt with you right in front of her? That would have made a far better question.

You sighed, then took a deep, calming breath. "Look, I don't like hunters any more than you do, but we can't antagonize them. We're surrounded by them." You raised up your hands and made a wide gesture to emphasize your point. "What'd we do if they retaliate? There's over twenty of them and two of us. I doubt Sam and Dean'd be on our side if they found out we've been rude to their hunter buddies."

Rowena's jaw dropped. She stared at you, disbelieving, outraged. "That numbnut should have thought of that before he tried to get into your pants!"

Your brows furrowed, features twisting into a look of sheer confusion. You were looking at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head, or her hair had inexplicably turned purple. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Eli flirting with you!"

"What?" You started to laugh, finding the claim ridiculous, and then decided against it and pressed your lips into a line. "No, he wasn't."

You meant it. Rowena could tell you did.

"Oh, he was," she said.

"No." You shook her head. "He wasn't. He was just…" Your eyes widened as realization began to sink it. "Was he?"

Rowena resisted the urge to slam her palm into her forehead. How could someone be so completely and utterly clueless? The man could have screamed in your face that he wanted to fuck you, and you still wouldn't get the hint.

"He was," she said. "He was bloody terrible at it, but he was flirting." You suddenly looked embarrassed. She smirked; she couldn't help being amused at your ignorance. "What'd you think he was doing?"

The man looked like he wanted to jump you right then and there. Her face twisted with disgust, then anger, at the thought. How dare he think of doing that with you? How dare he think he even had a chance?

"I just thought he was one of those annoying people who like to talk to strangers," you said with a shrug.

Bless your precious heart. Sometimes, Rowena longed for the days of innocence much alike that of yours. Days when she'd looked forward to the future, when she'd believed in dreams and the good in people. Days when she was just a girl, pale and scared. When every new day was an adventure, and every new person she'd met was an ally rather than an enemy. Days before the cruelty of the world had corrupted her, turned her bright, hopeful heart black.

"Good god, lass!"

You blushed. "He wasn't _that_ obvious," you said in an attempt to defend yourself.

"He was practically drooling," Rowena said. The memory filled her with resentment. Her fists clenched, nails digging into the skin of her palms. Her old self would have killed him for daring to look at you, an example to others with thoughts similar to his — don't mess with her property. Damn her newfound conscience, and damn her redemption! Being good — well, sort of — sucked.

"You're exaggerating."

"A few minutes more, and he would've shot up like a geyser!"

"Could've done without the visual, thanks," you said, grossed out. Your eyes narrowed, curious. Suspicious. "Why're you so worked up over this? You know I'd never cheat."

"Because…" Why, indeed? Rowena wasn't sure. All she knew with utmost certainty was that that man had no business acting the way that he had towards her girlfriend. Hers. Never his, or anyone else's. _Hers._

"Are you jealous?" A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you said it, teasing, playful, like a cat who'd caught a mouse and was tossing it around, sadistically enjoying its attempts to escape.

"No!" Rowena fired as soon as the question left your mouth and turned her head away, avoiding your eyes. She, jealous? Ridiculous! The great and powerful Rowena MacLeod would never succumb to such lowly emotions as jealousy.

"You are! You're jealous!" you all but beamed, as if you'd been looking forward to this conclusion.

"I'm not jealous!" Rowena denied. Simply because she wasn't fond of a strange man whispering to you, making you laugh, and touching your arm didn't mean she was jealous. Precautious — that was what she was. Yes. She was precautious. You knew nothing about those people, about their way of life. Each and every one of them had potential to be dangerous. They were in need of help, yes, but that didn't make them innocent. What if there was a serial killer amongst them? Or a child molester? A rapist? A hunter with a taste for witch blood? What kind of a girlfriend would she be if she disregarded those possibilities? You were still but a newbie witch, naive, precious. You hadn't experienced the world's cruelty the way that she had.

"You totally are!" You were giggling now, like a schoolgirl whose friend had confided in her about her latest crush.

Blood rushed to Rowena's rosy cheeks, turning them red as ripe, blooming poppies. "Am not," she insisted stubbornly.

A shadow of a doubt crept into her mind. Was she jealous? _No,_ she told herself. She wasn't. She couldn't be. She wanted your laughs to herself. She wanted her hand to brush against your arm, not Eli's. So what? She was your girlfriend. It was only natural she wanted you, all of you, all to herself.

Right?

You shook your head, not believing her for a second. At this point, Rowena wasn't sure she, herself, believed her own words.

"Oh, my god!" Your giggles morphed into full-blown laughter. You doubled over, hands instinctively pressing to your stomach as you laughed and laughed and laughed, seemingly forever. "You're adorable!"

Oh, _now_ she was adorable. "I am not adorable, and this is not funny," Rowena said with a scoff. Rude.

"I think it's hilarious!"

"Stop it!" She pouted again. Her lower lip quivered as if she were about to cry. She wasn't jealous! Honestly. She wasn't.

Alright, maybe she was. A teeny, tiny bit. She wasn't _that_ obvious, like Eli and his bloody awful flirting. She had the decency to be subtle.

You straightened up and walked over to her, lowering your hands onto her shoulders. Your eyes locked with hers, the look in them bright, cheerful, teasing. Underneath it all Rowena could see love, devotion like no other. "My little cutie pie," you cooed. Your finger tapped the tip of her nose, then slid down over her puckered up, shaky lip. "You have no reason to be jealous."

"I'm not—" Rowena tried, but stopped herself before finishing it. The cat was out of the bag. There was no use denying it anymore. She sighed, took a breath to compose herself, and straightened up, proud, dignified, like a queen standing before her people, about to give a long, inspirational speech following a hard-fought victory. "You're mine, Y/N."

"And I always will be."

She knew you would. But having spent centuries betrayed and broken, treated more like a toy than a person, Rowena had learned to fight for what she had, for what was hers. For if she didn't, it would be taken from her. It always was. Even the thought of someone ripping you from her made her heart beat faster in fear. She couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the possibility of you not being there when she woke up, not holding her hand, not calling her name when you needed her.

"I know. I just…" _I'm scared_ , she thought. Frozen in fear. Terrified beyond belief. You were the one good thing in her life, the one thing she hadn't managed to screw up. She couldn't lose you.

"I know sweetheart," you said, as if you'd read her thoughts. Your voice was gentle, sweet, soothing, radiating love she never thought she'd get again. She didn't deserve it, yet here you were, loving her more than anything in the world. Lucky old witch, she was. You brought your hands to her cheeks, cupping them into your palms. "I'm not gonna leave you. It's never gonna happen. You're stuck with me."

"Lucky me," Rowena said sarcastically, flashing a small smile. You had no idea how lucky she was to have you, to have the privilege to call you hers. To love you and be loved in return.

Lucky her, indeed.

You gave a light chuckle. "Besides, Eli's not even my type."

"Pray tell, what _is_ your type?"

You pretended to think it through for a moment. "Short, pale, green-eyed gingers with anger issues."

Rowena quirked up an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Uh-hum," you said with a nod. "Scottish. A bit annoying. Mean, sometimes. With impeccable fashion sense and strange love for glittery makeup. Jealous, though they claim not to be."

"Sounds like someone I know," she said.

"It totally does," you agreed. You pressed your lips to hers for a kiss, sweet and soft, a gentle brush of skin over skin. "I love you, you adorable, silly creature."

"I love you, too, you clueless girl."

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to thank OswinTheStrange not just for lending me her amazing editing skills, but also for helping me out by giving me ideas for this story. Also, thanks to UltimateFandomTrash helping with the title.
> 
> This story is a gift for my lovely new friend, hotdiggitydammit, on Tumblr. I highly recommend you check out her blog, she makes amazing art!


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